


buddy you're a boy, make a big noise

by lanterngoesswingingby



Series: take me back to yours, that will be fine [5]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, Platonic Soulmates, Smoking, Softness, Swearing, basically some people are still pricks in 2019, implied racism, its freddie and roger guys what do you expect, transport for london pls dont sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanterngoesswingingby/pseuds/lanterngoesswingingby
Summary: “Ignore them, Fred,” he heard him mumble, just soft enough that it would get lost on prying ears under the rumble of the train. “Clearly excited that mummy’s let them out without a harness."orfred and rog experience london's finest homophobia on the tube home





	buddy you're a boy, make a big noise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CommonSenseisPaineful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonSenseisPaineful/gifts).



> while i'm aware that kensington market sadly closed down in the late 90s/early 00s, in my head i have moved fred and rog's stall to covent garden. please ignore any tube map inaccuracies, i spent far too long trying to decide on a suitable location for their flat before i realised it literally doesn't matter and decided to base it off my usual journey. c'est la vie
> 
> this one is dedicated to my darling friend, who always has the best advice and writes the cutest fic, ilu baby xx

Freddie’s eyes were drooping. He leaned heavily on the tube pole, ignoring the dirty looks from the other commuters as he took up half of the space next to it, Roger pressed firmly to the other side amongst his own throng. It was rammed – working bank holidays may have been fantastic for business, as he fondly thought back to Roger selling the fugly and smoke-ridden jacket they had found in the local charity shop as a mid-70s original piece (some unfortunate woman had paid the full £40 Roger had presented as a “ _bargain of a dream, babe, since it will look so good with those boots—_ ”) and while the thought of treating themselves to a good bottle of Stolichnaya with the cash sitting in his shoulder bag was incredibly alluring, the rush hour tourist crowds on the central line were not so much. His shoulders were cramping from the longer shift, and one glance at Roger’s frequent glances at the tube map told him he was not alone. 10 stops to go. 

“Fuck off, dearie,” Freddie muttered under his breath as one man nearly fell on him, fumbling for grip as the tube screeched to its halt at the next station. He went thankfully unheard under the onslaught of sound, however the man shot him a glare as he departed the train, likely on account of Freddie’s unseemly pole hogging. _Well, they’ve not been on their fucking feet all day selling vintage rubbish to sightseers_ , he thought with an air of distaste, sniffing at his retreating figure. Behind him, Roger leaned even further into the pole, playing some sort of garish game on his phone. With every stop the crowds seemed to thin, disappearing off into the high-traffic stations while the stragglers began to fill the emptying seats. Freddie and Roger weren’t quick enough to nab a pair, their reactions sluggish and weary. 

As he propped himself further into Roger, letting his legs stretch out as he rested his back almost entirely on the pole, he felt the back of his neck prickle slightly. Freddie only gave a cursory glance out of the corner of his eye, noting the smirks of the teenagers crowded by the door. 

He breathed slowly through his nose before expelling it shortly. Behind him, Roger shifted.

“Ignore them, Fred,” he heard him mumble, just soft enough that it would get lost on prying ears under the rumble of the train. “Clearly excited that mummy’s let them out without a harness. Probably celebrating getting their ASBO’s removed.” Freddie supressed a snicker, unable to stop himself from glancing again– one of them clearly still had remnants of teenage acne across his forehead, and Freddie would have winced in sympathy had the boy in question not currently been leering at them across the carriage. It was far from an unheard-of occurrence – with their more… ‘out-there’ fashion choices, Roger’s long hair and Freddie’s painted nails, stares were expected, even in central London. They had never had any altercations with the public, for which Freddie was grateful. He may have been athletic in his younger age, but neither he nor Roger pushed 5’10’’ without heels, and he had absolutely no inclination to throw hands with anyone, drunk or sober. Roger, however—

“What the fuck are they even staring at?” Roger grumbled, no longer playing his game but focusing resolutely on his fingernails. Freddie swatted his hand away before he could begin to pick at the skin around them, a terrible habit that he had so far been unsuccessful in stopping. In the back of his mind he mentally filed away the idea to get Roger some anti-biting polish for his birthday.

“What happened to ‘ignore them’, hm? Oh, quick darling—” as he spoke a handful of passengers began to rise from their seats as the tube ground to a noisy halt, throwing them a little off balance. Freddie shoved Roger towards the seats, placed at a comfortable distance away from the teenagers. They sat down with an ungraceful thump.

“Thank fuck for that,” Roger groaned, letting his head fall back against the glass. Freddie hesitated for a second, glancing towards the other end of the carriage where the young men appeared suitably distracted, gathering around a phone. Suitably appeased, he tucked his head into Roger’s shoulder, closing his eyes and yawning unattractively. Above him, Roger snorted.

“How the hell is your hair so soft with all the crap you put in it?” 

“My natural beauty, love. And _Bumble & Bumble_. But that part’s a secret just for you.” 

He opened his eyes briefly to check the tube map once more. There was still another 20 minutes journey time, and if he tried quick enough he could possibly grab a few minutes of a half-nap while Roger kept an eye out. 

As he dozed, he felt warmth on his head, and a low mumble as Roger mouthed along with the train announcements, the words getting lost in his hair and the haze of sleep. 

_“…change for the Jubilee line, and national rail services…”_

“Hey. Hey. My friend wants to ask you something.” A snigger. “Are you listening, or what?”

Freddie opened his eyes and immediately removed himself from Roger to see the three teenagers who had made their way down the carriage. It had grown steadily emptier the further they moved away from central, and only a handful of people remained, all staring firmly at their phone screens or newspapers. 

“Uh, can you understand me? You do speak English, right?” The boy closest sneered at him. Freddie felt sick to his stomach as a hot flush of rage caught in his throat, rendering him unable to speak. His back prickled with sudden heat.

“What the _fuck_ did you just say?”  
Roger stood up from his seat, and Freddie’s mind barely caught up with itself fast enough to grab at the sleeve of Roger’s jacket, fingers catching in the brown fur. 

“Rog—” he muttered, giving it a tug. Roger did not look at him, glaring squarely at the teenager. A faint part at the back of his mind registered the sight as amusing, the youth’s gangly form standing barely an inch over the drummer, who looked seconds away from an action they would both regret. Legally standing, of course – Freddie had no doubt that he and Roger, un-athletic though they were, could defend themselves quite well against three teens who he somehow doubted had seen the sunlight in weeks and likely didn’t know the meaning of a proper breakfast. The thought of a court case detailing their physical assault of three spotty minors pushed him to pull on Roger’s sleeve again, this time hard enough to get Roger to _“sit the fuck down.”_ Roger blew his hair out of his face with a frustrated huff. 

“Oh, he’s a posh boy!” the shortest jeered, swinging round the pole and looking, in Freddie’s opinion, like an absolute prat. Freddie took a deep breath and darted his eyes round the carriage. A few more people had since left the train, and the two that were left refused to look up at the scene that was unfolding in front of them. He raised a sharp eyebrow.

“Incredibly astute, I’m sure you’ll do remarkably in your GCSEs,” he remarked, threading his fingers together mostly to stop his hands from shaking with the adrenaline that was currently coursing through his limbs. A small chorus of patronising ‘oooh’s sprung up from the youths, still gathered directly in front of their seats. 

“We’re just asking a question! Nothin’ offensive about that, mate.” The tallest gave them a false smile, his friends sniggering behind him. 

“Hurry up and fuck off,” Roger ground out, bouncing his leg with such a concerning amount of excess energy. Out the corner of his eye, Freddie saw his finger’s itch to reach into his pocket, where he knew his cigarettes and lighter were nestled comfortably. He glanced up at the rolling announcement sign. Two more stops.

“No need to get like that, we’re just curious, you know,” the third boy, who had been yet to speak, piped up from next to Roger. “We thought your lot were attracted to men.”

Next to him, Roger sucked in a sharp breath, and Freddie’s fists clenched. Of course, of fucking _course_ —

“We just wanted to know, right, is it still gay when you’re dressed up like some sort of _bitch_?”

Roger sprang up at him, and this time Freddie was not quite quick enough to stop him. He threw himself at the teenager but was shoved back by the tallest, whose smile had fallen into a sneer. The lady at the far end of the carriage let out a small gasp, unable to ignore the scene any longer. Roger hissed, and reared himself back again, pushing his sleeves up slightly as he did so.

“You complete c—” 

_“…please take all your belongings with you when leaving the train—”_

Freddie saw his moment, and with every inch of grace he had ever possessed he grabbed the back of Roger’s coat and dragged him away from the teens. He managed to pull Roger through the doors just as they were about to close, the fluffiest part of his jacket brushing through by a hair. As the train pulled away, Roger tore out of his arms and hurled a packet of chewing gum at the window, missing by a good four feet as the carriage became nothing but a blur. Roger growled.

“Utter _wankers_!” He kicked the ground. Freddie just stood there, clutching his arms close to his chest, heart still racing in his chest. He sniffed.

“Roger, dear, look at it this way,” he began, shifting the bag on his shoulder. 

“What?” Roger bit out, fumbling for his packet of cigarettes. Not for the first time he bore a startling reference to their cat, shoulders heaving under that ridiculously fluffy jacket ( _"It’s literally called a ‘teddy’ jacket, Rog, and you expect me to take anything you say seriously?"_ ). 

“This is the perfect excuse to get well and truly fucked tonight.”

Roger barked out a short laugh and offered him the packet. Freddie took one with relish, and as he took his first drag he looked up at the station sign.

“Jesus Christ…” he sighed. 

“What?” Roger followed his gaze and swore. “This is the wrong stop, you bitch.”

*******

Freddie pointed at the bottle of Stolichnaya behind the counter and flashed the shop owner a smile.

“That one there would do just wonderfully, thank you Raymond.”

His name, in fact, was not Raymond, but he bit his tongue and turned to get the vodka from the shelf, placing it next to the bottle of Jack Daniels Freddie had already selected. _Sapphire Wines and Finds_ was the only local off-license still open on the bank holiday, a glorious five minutes from their flat and two minutes from the nearest kebab shop. It had played a large factor in their choice of accommodation, in addition to the willingness of the landlady to turn a blind eye to the drum-kit Roger had heaved into the flat, and the only price point that their budget could even sniff at. 

Behind him, Roger appeared, slamming both a bottle of Archer’s and a litre of sugar-free lemonade on the counter. Not-Raymond looked at him, stone-faced.

“You got ID?”

“Are you having a laugh, mate?” Roger gaped, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was in here two days ago. You sold me _cigarettes_.”

The shop owner looked him up and down, his expression decidedly unimpressed.

“I promise you, he’s definitely of age.” Freddie winked. The blonde kicked the back of his boots and opened his mouth to retort, but the man behind the counter simply sighed. 

“Whatever you say. Don’t expect me to be so sweet next time.”

Roger scoffed and grabbed a packet of chewing gum at the last minute, shoving it in amongst the alcohol as Not-Raymond rung it up. The total made Freddie wince, but hell if they weren’t going to live a little on good vodka and peach schnapps. They deserved it. Heating be damned for a week or so. 

“It’s not like Brian can get pissy at us for this,” Roger mumbled, gesturing vaguely at the result of their day’s wages. “We were _harassed_ today,” He grabbed the plastic bag from the counter and waved half-heartedly behind him at Not-Raymond, who did not wave back. Freddie let out a laugh, rising up deep and unexpected from the bottom of his stomach. 

“Oh, darling,” he managed through the snorts, “Once I tell him that you tried to attack a fifteen-year-old, he is most definitely going to be pissy.”

He ducked as Roger pelted his new pack of gum at him, still laughing his way down the road.

**Author's Note:**

> unfortunately this is semi-based on truth, ppl are still arseholes even in the main cities and while i do not condone throwing hands with school-age children, i decided to use teenagers in this fic cos so much of the time they are the worst(tm). thank you for reading my lovelies! as always, feel free to drop me a message at my [tumblr](https://lanterngoesswingingby.tumblr.com/)! you are all superstars, and thank u again xx  
> also make sure to check out commonsenseispaineful's adorable fic abt fred and rog's time as market-stall holders, it provided a great inspiration and also is just the loveliest little thing


End file.
